


Missing You

by VeraBAdler



Series: October 2018 challenges [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, First Kiss, Food, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 00:17:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler
Summary: Dean can't figure out how to help Cas get used to being human, until he does.Fictober prompt: “Can you feel this?”Promptober prompt: coffee shop





	Missing You

**Author's Note:**

> I am attempting, in the full knowledge that I'll probably crash and burn a few days from now, to do _both_ the [Fictober 2018](http://barbex.tumblr.com/post/178393189908/a-list-of-prompts-for-october-write-something) and the [Destiel Promptober 2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DestielPromptober2018) challenges at once. So each work I manage to post this month will have to contain two different prompts. Shall we dance?
> 
> Each fic will be posted as its own work, and I don't plan on there being any connection between any of the fics. If you want to get a notification when I post the next day's story, you can subscribe to [the series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1149884).

It makes sense that Cas would be sad. Depressed, even. Dean gets it. Well, he doesn't _get it_ get it because he's never been an angel and then he's never, as an angel, had to _stop_ being an angel and get used to grubbing it down in the mud with the monkeys. So Dean can't empathize 100% but _God_ , does he know loss. So he understands. Cas has been through the shit, and he's lost everything, and it's no surprise that it's taking a toll on his emotions.

But _Jesus Christ_. Maybe a better man would be more patient about this. Okay, a better man would _definitely_ be more patient about this. Okay, basically _anyone_ would be more patient about this than Dean is, because patience is not really Dean Winchester's strong suit. If there's a situation in front of him and he can't shoot, stab, charm, lie, or fuck his way out of it ASAP, he starts to get itchy.

So this thing with Cas, where he's sad, and he's _been_ sad, and he's not getting any _less_ sad, and it's been going on for fucking _months_? Dean's feeling pretty damn itchy at this point.

He's tried. Lord knows he has _tried_.

First he tried to fix it. He blew more late-night hours than he can count digging through the archives and looking for a way to get the angel his wings back. Cas slumped beside him in the library through it all, translating whatever texts Dean threw his way in a quiet, flat voice. Eventually the fruitless searching made Dean want to set fire to the stacks, and all the failure only seemed to further cement Cas's grief.

So he tried to help Cas accept it. He spent days and days dragging Cas along an off-the-cuff curriculum that might as well be called “How to Human,” drilling all the basics from “trimming your nose hair” to “knowing your new limits on shots of tequila.” Cas let himself to be led from room to room, he meekly mirrored Dean's actions and practiced the skills of his new human life, but he never smiled, he never asked questions, he never spoke unless spoken to first.

It's like there's nothing but a shadow where before there had been the angel Dean had been proud to call his friend. Sometimes he imagines he can _see_ the edges of Cas's body blurring as he just... Fades to gray. Not much scares Dean Winchester, but the thought of Cas slipping away from him, giving in to his grief, being gone for good? That scares him _bad_.

So. Plan C it is: Distraction. Honestly, Dean doesn't know why he didn't think of it sooner. “Pretending his problems don't exist” is basically his second full-time job.

He's not sure, though, how best to distract Cas; the solid Winchester standbys of fucking, fighting, and fast driving don't seem like they'll appeal to a man who spent thousands of years as a wavelength of energy. 

He thinks of the things he's seen Castiel the Angel of the Lord enjoy, but every memory comes with baggage. Bees make him think of a frail form in a hospital room. Burgers make him think of Famine's stinking breath. Even Road Runner cartoons remind him of an invitation declined, and how it felt to drive away from his friend as their paths diverged _yet again_.

It's possible Dean is overthinking this. Eventually it's a Saturday morning, the weather's fine, and there's no hunt hanging over their heads. In true Winchester fashion, Dean decides to just wing it.

“Hey Cas, M'going out for a drive. Come along?”

Cas gives him a shrug and a soft “okay.” Well, it's not a no.

They pull the Impala out onto the back road that leads from the Bunker and head her towards Lebanon. The sky is a rich blue, and Cas seems to perk up a bit as the autumn sunshine warms his chest and lap. Dean blasts the tunes, and the twenty-minute trip into town passes swiftly.

They hit the big-box store to stock up on household staples like rock salt and toilet paper, and Dean puffs up with pride at his own cleverness because Cas acts almost like his old self while they're there. He remembers a couple things Dean had forgotten to add to the shopping list, and he even tries a sample of some weird granola bar thing that he pronounces “wholesome and flavorful, Dean” (so of course Dean buys three huge boxes of the things).

By the time they're checking out, Dean is mentally patting himself on the back. Who knew? All Cas had needed to feel better was a trip to Costco. Dean Winchester has solved another case.

Dean is getting peckish, so they stop in to a little coffee shop. Buoyed with relief and self-satisfaction, he's feeling expansive and orders fancy hot drinks and pastries for them both. It's all the more gut-wrenching, then, to sit across from Cas at their cozy little table and watch as his lighter mood evaporates and the color drains back out of his face.

By the time their food arrives, Cas seems as listless and disconnected as ever. He sips at his coffee and nibbles a bit of the honey cake that Dean had chosen for him, but his eyes drift towards the table and stay there, and he barely responds to Dean's attempts at conversation.

Dean calls for the check and racks his brain. He's suffering from a bit of emotional whiplash after his quick fix crashed and burned, but one thought bubbles up to the top of his brain and won't be pushed aside.

Oh, boy. He'd hoped it would never come to this. Plan D: Actually Talking About Shit Like Adults.

When they leave the coffee shop, Dean steers them away from the car and towards a little park nearby. If they're gonna talk, he doesn't want to be driving while they do it. As much as it terrifies him to have a real conversation about this, as scared as he is to hear Cas tell him there's nothing he can do to make this better, as hard as his heart pounds and his hands shake, he doesn't change the course of their feet.

When they reach the park, Dean nudges them towards a bench near the playground. They sit for a few moments in silence, watching the kids run around trying to bash each other's brains in, and Dean remembers a conversation on another bench, what feels like a dozen lifetimes ago. _Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?_

It's always been like that between them, right from the beginning. The profound bond, or whatever. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, listens to his own heartbeat and wills it to slow. Then he takes the leap.

“Cas?”

“Mmm?” He doesn't turn, his gaze fixed ahead but unfocused, like he can't be bothered to actually look at what's happening in front of him

“Cas, buddy, can you look at me?”

He shifts, and his eyes are dull but still so _blue_. “Yes, Dean?”

“Cas... How are you?”

“Fine,” he murmurs, already turning away again.

Dean sighs and reaches out, touching his friend's jaw and pulling his head gently back around. “Talk to me.” Another echo of the past, one that frightens him. _I'm afraid I might kill myself._ “How are you, really? I'm worried about you, man.”

“I'm...” He stops, puffs out a breath. “It's difficult.”

He realizes his hand is still on the side of Cas's face, and he brings it to his friend's shoulder. “I can imagine,” he says softly. “You lost your wings. Stuck down here with us humans. That's gotta be wrenching. I know it's hit you hard.”

Cas quirks his mouth, already impatient with the conversation. “I don't miss my wings, Dean.”

Dean is confused. Doesn't miss his...? “Uhhh, you don't? Cuz you've seemed really down for a really long time now, Cas. And I get it. You pretty much lost everything...”

“I lost nothing except what I gave up willingly. I don't miss being an angel. I only miss...” He shuts his mouth abruptly, as if to catch whatever he was about to say before it can escape to meet the air. His cheeks color a bit and he looks away again.

“Cas?”

Cas shakes his head, still facing away. “Nothing.”

Dean pulls him back again, this time having to overcome a moment of resistance before Cas relents and turns.

“You can tell me, man. I want to help. What do you miss?”

Cas flicks his eyes around Dean's face, tense and searching. For what? He must find something worthwhile because he relaxes a bit, and he answers. “You, Dean. I miss _you_.”

This conversation makes no sense. Dean feels almost dizzy with it. “Whuh? Cas, I'm _right here_. We live in the Bunker together. We see each other like 200 times a day. We just bulk-bought dryer sheets together. How can you miss me?”

“I miss...” Cas pauses, visibly gathering his strength. To be fair, this is the longest conversation they've had since he fell by, like, a factor of ten. He actually probably is getting tired out. “When I was an angel, Dean, I could _see_ you. When we were together, I could see your soul, and it was beautiful. But even when we weren't together, when I had to attend to tasks elsewhere or even when I was on another plane dealing with matters in Heaven, I still felt you. Our bond was... Strong. _Elemental_. I always knew where you were, like a blip on my radar screen that never disappeared, no matter how far apart we were. I could feel when you were in danger, and when you were safe. I could feel when you were thinking of me, and when you missed me. I could feel if you were angry, or scared, or happy. I could feel when you were asleep, and whether your dreams were peaceful. You were a constant quiet buzz in the back of my brain, and it was a great source of comfort to me to know you were alright, to know that I could come to you if you needed my assistance.” His eyes well up with tears, and one escapes to run down his cheek. “Now that I am human, I miss you, Dean. I can't _feel_ you any more. Not like that.”

As his friend speaks, Dean's head spins. He thinks back on the months since Cas fell, and his perspective shifts. He'd thought his friend was mourning, that he'd been consumed with grief. But now he looks back and sees something else: loneliness. A loneliness that finds its twin in his own heart. Dean didn't know how to help his friend with his grief, but this? They can help each other with this. He cradles Cas's stubbled cheek in the palm of his hand, his thumb brushing away the stray tear.

“Cas, I'm sorry, I didn't understand why you were hurting until now. Maybe you won't be able to sense me from a million miles away with freaky angel radar any more, but you don't need to, man. I'm right here next to you. And that's exactly where I'm gonna stay for the rest of our lives. You can't feel me any more, huh? Can you feel _this_?”

After all the worry, and the pining, and the fear, and the uncertainty... After all the times they'd made the hard choice, or struggled to do the right thing... This is easy, and it's _right_. He leans forward a little, and Cas leans forward a little, and they meet in the middle. Cas's hand comes up to tangle in Dean's hair, and their lips entwine, and it's soft and warm and perfect, and they both feel it in every particle of their utterly human bodies.

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable post for this fic on tumblr is [here](https://blessyourhondahurley.tumblr.com/post/178674146626/october-1-verabadler-supernatural-archive-of).


End file.
